Page 20 of Hate You Most

“No,” he repeated. “This isn't something you decide alone.”

“I can,” Viktoriya said. “I’m eighteen.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” her father snapped. “You think you know what's best for you at that age?”

Her sister looked toward her but didn't say a word.

Her mother pushed her plate away. “Eighteen years,” she said quietly. “Eighteen years of driving you to practice. Paying for skates. Paying for travel. Rearranging our entire lives around your career.”

“Mama—”

“And now we learn over dinner that you're leaving for another country? For America.”

“It's training,” Viktoriya said. “Coach Shevchenko recommended it.”

“It's not training,” her mother snapped. “It's leaving.”

Viktoriya looked down at her plate. The pelmeni was getting cold.

“I have to do this.”

Her father leaned back in his chair with a look that Viktoriya couldn't place at all. “Why?”

The question surprised her.

“Because I'm stuck here.”

“You are not stuck here,” he simply said, as if that was the end of the discussion.

“I am.” She met his eyes. “I train with the same people, with the same coach. I compete against the same people. Every year it's the same.”

“And America changes that?”

“It might.”

Her father looked away for a moment. Toward the TV in the corner of the room. “Might?”

“They have better facilities,” Viktoriya said. “More ice time. Better funding, better coaches. They're paying for most of it, and the rest I'll pay for with sponsorship money.”

“Do you think they'll care about you?”

“No,” she said. “I don't think they'll care about me at all.”

“Then why go?” her mother asked with a tone she rarely ever used. A melancholic anger.

She took a breath. “Because they care about winning, and because I care about winning.”

The room fell silent. Her father looked away again.

Viktoriya continued. “I would still compete for Russia, that hasn't changed. Besides, if I stay here, I know exactly what will happen.”

“And what happens?”

“I become another good skater,” The words tasted bitter on her tongue. “I can land the jumps that I know. That's not enough anymore. The girls I'm competing against at international competitions are adding harder combinations every season. The coaches in America work with skaters who are already doing what I'm trying to learn. If I stay here I know I'll become another good skater, just not a great one.”

Her mother's eyes glistened with frustration. “You think life becomes easier there?”

“No,” Viktoriya replied. “I think it'll be exactly the same.”